


Soft, Sudden, Summer Rain

by m02611



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27175411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m02611/pseuds/m02611
Summary: Of all the bad things Zuko had ever done, kissing Sokka against a wall in a palace corridor was probably low on the list. Trying repeatedly to capture and kill the Avatar was definitely higher up. But pressing Sokka up against a wall and violating any and all boundaries of personal space was probably fourth or fifth.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 168





	1. Cactus Juice

_You made me forget about_   
_Have, want, exert_   
_And all of a sudden, I feel proud_   
_Of being, without saying a word_

_You made me forget about_   
_Past and pain_   
_Time, you washed out_   
_Like a soft, sudden, summer rain_

* * *

Of all the bad things Zuko had ever done, kissing Sokka against a wall in a palace corridor was probably low on the list.

Attacking various Earth Kingdom villages was probably higher up. Trying repeatedly to capture and kill the Avatar was definitely higher up. But pressing Sokka up against a wall and violating any and all boundaries of personal space was probably only fourth or fifth.

He hadn't meant to kiss him — not really. They had been walking down the hallway when it suddenly occurred to Zuko that they were alone.

 _Alone_ alone.

Aang and Katara, married for an entire week now, disgustingly happy, were off on their honeymoon with Appa and Momo. Toph was somewhere spirits-know-where in the Earth Kingdom, visiting her parents. And Suki was back on Kyoshi Island. There wasn't a single servant or guard or councilman or ambassador in sight. They were alone.

Just the thought of Suki had made Zuko's stomach turn, images flitting through his mind like a kineograph. Suki holding Sokka's hand. Suki visiting Sokka's tent late at night. Suki kissing Sokka—

It was that thought which had made him stop in his tracks.

"Zuko?" Sokka had asked, turning back to see what had made the Firelord fall from his side. "Why do you have that look on your face?"

And Zuko had rushed him, all thoughts erased from his brain. It took him about five or six seconds to realize that he had pinned Sokka to the wall. And it only took Zuko seven seconds to start kissing him.

A grunt of surprise met Zuko as he persisted, but he did, regardless, persist. In kissing him. In kissing Sokka.

There wasn't really any turning back now, Zuko supposed. The most surprising thing, really, was that Sokka was kissing him back.

* * *

It was late. A full moon hung in the sky as they sat together on the balcony that sat off of Zuko's private rooms, overlooking the lights and noise of the Fire Nation Capital. The night air was balmy, and it smelled of bonfires, smoke. To Zuko it smelled like home.

He lit a cigarette with the tip of his finger. A nearly empty bottle of cactus juice mezcal, two emptied cups, and a full ashtray sat on the table between him and Sokka, who was slumped deep in his chair.

It was the night of Aang and Katara's wedding. The Avatar and his new bride had climbed into Appa's saddle and had ridden into the night, off to spend a month at the Eastern Air Temple.

"The most spiritual of all the air temples!" Katara had said excitedly. Toph's comment of, "Yeah, I bet you guys are gonna meditate a ton," had earned her a pout from Katara, a grin from Aang, and a punch in the arm from Sokka.

Now, many hours — and many glasses of lychee wine — later, Zuko and Sokka were the only ones from the wedding party still awake. Not wanting to smoke in his sitting room, where he had entertained the remaining members of Team Avatar, Zuko had invited Sokka out to the balcony, Toph and Suki having retired to their rooms.

"Did I ever tell you about her?" Sokka asked, pointing to the sky.

"What, the moon?" Zuko replied, laughing. "I don't think so."

"I'm pretty sure I did. On the way to Boiling Rock."

Zuko sat a little straighter in his chair and stopped laughing. "Oh, you did." He chanced a look at his friend, who was still staring almost wistfully at the moon. "I thought you were joking."

"No wonder you were so compassionate." Sokka twisted his mouth in a half-grin. "Thanks, buddy."

Zuko laughed, took a drag on his cigarette. "What can I say? I was an awkward teenager."

"That," said Sokka, glancing at Zuko out of the corner of his eye, "is the understatement of the century."

Zuko resisted the urge to reach across the table and punch Sokka in the arm. "So, the moon, huh?"

"The moon," Sokka replied, pouring the last of the liquor into his cup and draining it in a single gulp. He raised both arms in a gesture of emphasis. "The moon! Her name was Yue."

"Nice name."

"She was nice."

They lapsed into a moment of silence. Zuko could tell that Sokka wanted to say more, could tell by the line of his lips pressed tightly together, the muscles in his bare arms tensed. He thought vaguely of touching him somehow. Handing him a cigarette, brushing lint off his tunic. Cupping his face in his palm —

"D'you ever wonder what you're gonna do?" Sokka asked, rolling in his chair to face Zuko.

Zuko didn't reply at first, unsure what he meant. Sokka's eyes were very blue, almost glacial in the light of the torches. He seemed a little drunk.

"I guess you don't have to," Sokka murmured. "You've got that figured out for you. Firelord and such."

"Yeah," Zuko finally replied. "I guess I always thought it might be nice to take over my uncle's tea shop."

Sokka laughed, a harsh and clipped sound. "You, running a tea shop?"

Zuko laughed back, but asked, "What's so funny about that?"

"Well, you're so... Firelordy!"

Zuko smiled primly. "Yes, I am quite lordly," he said, straightening his collar.

The laugh Sokka gave was entirely worth the moment of self-deprecation. No longer sardonic and sad, it sounded light and clear. Zuko couldn't help but smile at the sound.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Sokka sighed, the look of laughter quickly dropping from his face. "It's been five years since the war ended and I'm still just... hanging out."

Zuko extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, pushing aside the other butts to make room. "You'd make a good ambassador," he said, swirling the dregs of liquor in his glass.

"Yeah, maybe." Sokka smiled at him.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Sokka stood to leave. He turned and bowed deeply to his friend. "Firelord Zuko," he quipped, molding his face into a look of mock-deference.

Zuko snorted and rolled his eyes. "Go to bed, peasant."

"Right away, your Lordliness." Sokka straightened, his face taking on a more serious cast, any emotion inscrutable. His hand twitched as if to reach out, but ultimately stayed by his side. "Goodnight, Zuko."

"Goodnight, Sokka."

* * *

"What, uh..." Sokka trailed off as Zuko bit his lip. "Whatcha doing here?"

Zuko slipped his knee into the space between Sokka's legs, pressing gently and persistently against his groin as he pressed his lips against the corner of Sokka's mouth. "Kissing you."

"I can see that," Sokka whispered, burying his hand in Zuko's long hair. Zuko half-expected Sokka to yank his hair and scream bloody murder and run down the hallway crying for help, but he only scratched lightly at Zuko's scalp and pulled him in closer. "I guess my question is... why?"

"Wanted to."

That seemed to satisfy him. There were minutes of silence. Blissful, uninterrupted silence. Sokka's other hand joined the one already in Zuko's hair, then trailed down his neck to rest flat against his chest.

After a shockingly smooth start to his... endeavor, Zuko's poise rapidly disintegrated.

He moved his hands from Sokka's face to Sokka's shoulders, and simultaneously pressed him into the wall, a move that Sokka seemed to enjoy but crushed Zuko's hands against the brick. Gasping in pain, Zuko bit down hard on Sokka's lip.

"Nnngh!" Sokka gasped in pain.

"Sorry!" Zuko pulled away.

And immediately Sokka's hands returned to Zuko's hair. "No, no, no..." He pressed a hot, wet kiss somewhere west of Zuko's mouth. "No, come back."

They had just resettled into the kiss when the clatter of shoes against the tile floor of the hallway pulled the boys back into themselves. Blushing furiously, Zuko hastily flattened his robes and straightened his top knot and hair pin. In a twin motion, Sokka tightened his wolf tail.

In a stroke of genius, Sokka whirled to study the tapestry that, seconds before, he had been pinned against. Zuko folded his hands behind his back and assumed a similar pose.

"Yes, fascinating..." Sokka murmured, glancing coyly out of the corner of his eye at Zuko, who was still bright red in the face.

The servant, a girl of fifteen or sixteen carrying a stack of folded bed linens, bowed quickly to the Firelord as she passed. She scurried down the hallway, her loud steps receding as she rounded the corner.

Zuko took a pointed step back. "Sokka..." he started, but closed his mouth abruptly. Mouth set in a grim line, he refused to meet his friend's gaze. Instead, he turned to pace quickly down the hall and out of sight.

Sokka dropped his posture of faux interest and slumped against the tapestry. "Fuck," he muttered. "What the fuck was that?"


	2. Sozin's Twist

Sokka held Suki in her darkened bedroom.

The sound of Aang and Katara's bachelor and bachelorette parties echoed from down the hall. At first they had been separate festivities, but the bride- and groom-to-be were so disgustingly in love, they couldn't stand to be apart. Both parties had drifted into Zuko's spacious sitting room over the course of the night and melded into one.

Suki had left when Toph and Aang entered into the fifth round of their drinking contest. Toph, though armed with a stomach of steel and nerves to match, had found herself unable to keep pace with the Avatar for the first time in her life. Her second shot — a small tumbler of a clear drink called Sozin's Twist, the distinguishing feature of which was a citrus peel garnish, set aflame by attentive and long-suffering firebending servants — ended up being thrown somewhere over her shoulder. Ducking to avoid splatter, Sokka followed close on Suki's heels and left the party.

They laid beneath the blanket, which covered their heads and cast their faces in a dark red glow. A foot of space remained between them, breached by Sokka's hand resting on Suki's upper arm, Suki's hand clutching flatly at Sokka's chest.

Suki cried silently, her tears falling sideways and running into her hair. Sokka reached a hand out to gently wipe the wetness from her face.

"Suki," he murmured to her softly. "Don't cry."

"I don't know why I'm the one crying," she said, her voice rough and phlegmy, but strong. "I'm so sorry, Sokka."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for."

More than anything, he was hurt by the pain so clearly written on her face. He was hurt more by her tears than by her dumping him, really.

"Suki, it hasn't been right in years. We haven't been right in years."

A choked sob rose out of her throat and his stomach dropped at the sound. "You're so important to me," she said.

Even as she left him, he loved her. He loved the way her voice was steady even as she cried. The glint of her wet eyes in the shadowed space beneath the blanket. He knew he would always love her. That there would always be a place in his heart for this wild girl, this raging and unearthly creature that could knock him to the ground with a fan and without a second thought.

"I don't think we're meant for each other," Sokka said, shocked and dismayed to find that his voice cracked more than hers.

He wasn't even sure that he believed his own words. He knew that he loved her. Undoubtedly, he loved her smile and her laugh. He loved the sharp and elegant grace of her warrior makeup and the clear and fresh beauty of her bare face. But he knew, deep in some hidden part of himself, that it wasn't enough. That he protected Suki the same way he protected Katara, out of responsibility and duty, and yes, out of love, but a chaste and clement devotion. A glowing ember rather than a fire burning within him.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Sokka was skipping rocks. He was scouting the palace's grounds for flat stones of the perfect size and heft. He was weighing them in his hand, arcing his arm back, and letting them fly across the water.

He was skipping rocks because he was utterly, entirely, and all-encompassingly bored.

It had been nine days, three hours, and forty-seven minutes since he had had a single conversation with someone, with anyone. Well, beyond please and thank you-ing the servants, who brought him fresh towels and guava in the mornings. One poor serving girl had almost run from Sokka's rooms in shock after he tried to engage her with inquiries about the palace's laundry process. He only asked to end the monotony of days without company or conversation, but he supposed the girl didn't want to engage him on the subject of manual versus machine-driven agitation.

He knew then that he needed to talk to someone — a certain someone — to avoid any risk of future laundry-related conversational mishaps.

In a stroke of pure coincidence, it had also been nine days, three hours, and forty-six minutes since Zuko had shoved him against a wall and kissed him until his knees were weak. Sokka's knees, that is. A pure and total coincidence.

And in these nine days and several hours and minutes, Sokka had seen Zuko twice.

Once at dinner, the night of their... snafu. It was unmistakably a snafu, Sokka had decided. A shocking, exhilarating, frustrating, delightful, to-be-repeated snafu.

At dinner that calamitous night, Sokka, in his usual place on Zuko's right, had made stilted attempts at conversation with the Firelord. Every response that Zuko gave had been perfectly polite, respectful, and attentive. It made Sokka want to punch him in the mouth. Zuko had disappeared from the room during dessert, when presumably he knew Sokka's attention would be otherwise engaged. Zuko did not appear at future dinners.

The other instance involved an unfortunate encounter in the very same hallway of the snafu. Zuko, surrounded by various Fire Nation ministers and officials, had curtly nodded his head to Sokka.

Sokka had tripped over the rug.

He arced his arm too high and his best rock plodded into the pond with a wide splash, disturbing a family of turtle ducks that quacked loudly and flapped their wings in rebuke. He unwrapped the heel of bread he had appropriated from the kitchens and tossed a crumb to the birds. "I am very sorry," he said to them with a humorless solemnity.

His pile of rocks exhausted and his bread consumed, Sokka had nothing left to do in the garden. With a sigh, he rose and headed back to his rooms. Lying on his bed and practicing his dejected moaning might take up an hour or two of his time, he supposed.

Zuko's mouth. The thoughts came unbidden to Sokka's mind as he meandered through the high-ceilinged halls. Zuko's hair. Zuko's long and silky and tangled hair, so easy to twine his fingers in, even with the top knot. The awkwardness of Zuko's mouth against his, the intimacy and vulnerability of each not knowing what the other liked, kisses that were too hard and then too soft, clashing teeth and bit lips and missteps with tongues. The sound of Zuko's voice, husky and strained and guilty-sounding. The spots of red that colored Zuko's impossibly high cheekbones. Sokka wondered absently whether Zuko's face was as warm as it looked, flushed and glowing. The heat in the air around them.

A hollow feeling sat deep in Sokka's gut. Zuko probably regretted it, kissing him.

Maybe Sokka wasn't a good kisser. He had only kissed two people in his life, and never a boy. A man. Maybe Sokka had so disgusted him that Zuko couldn't even bear to look him in the face.

Maybe this feeling in his stomach would never go away.


	3. Something High-Proof and Clear

“What are you doing up here?” 

“What are _you_ doing up here?” 

Zuko was sitting on the roof of the palace, smoking and sipping at a flask of something high-proof and clear. On the roof of the council chambers, specifically. Which is where he should’ve been at that very moment. Listening to the bleating sounds of men arguing over the right adjective to use in an informational leaflet. 

Zuko figured they could probably argue well enough without him.

It was a bit of a special spot for Zuko. He liked the sweeping curvature of the gabled roof, which provided a perfect hollow for smoking and sulking. The yellow roof tiles always caught the sunlight like liquid fire, glinting and shimmering as if buffeted in a current. 

He liked the privacy that the roof provided, the staircase and entrance tucked away in a sequestered corner of an unfrequented hall, all the way at the very back of the council chambers. The trees of the palace gardens obscured the roof from view, and Zuko could look out at the sky and pretend that he didn’t have anything to do or anyone looking for him.

That is, until this moment, Zuko _had_ liked the privacy that the roof provided. 

Sokka’s voice was breathless as he stumbled over the roof’s tiles and nearly crawled his way over to Zuko on all fours. “How did you even get up here? It took me twenty minutes just to climb up the side. And I know I’m better than you at climbing.”

“There’s a staircase.”

Sokka stood next to Zuko, hands on his hips, leaning over slightly to catch his breath. “Fuck.”

Zuko made a gesture with his cigarette that clearly read, _What the fuck do you want?_ He blew a smoke ring in Sokka’s general direction. 

Sokka waved away the smoke and retched dramatically. “Grotesque.” Sokka noted with a twinge of pain that, as he edged closer, Zuko inched farther away. 

Zuko rolled his eyes and turned away. His arms wrapped around his knees, he looked much younger than his twenty-one years. “Seriously, what do you want, Sokka?”

“Saw you sitting here from my window,” Sokka said casually, still standing. “Thought I’d come find out why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“You can see me here from your window?”

Sokka pointed across the palace’s open garden to where one pagoda could be seen poking through the summer foliage of the gingko trees. Zuko craned his neck to see the window he was gesturing to.

“Huh,” Zuko said. “I always thought no one could see me here.”

“Now, normally I wouldn’t _dream_ of invading your privacy in your very special private place,” Sokka said. “Which isn’t really all that private, by the way.”

Sokka sat down. “But I haven’t seen you in weeks, Zuko. And you won’t answer your door.”

Zuko puffed moodily at his cigarette. “Aren’t I allowed to have moods? Can’t a guy isolate himself without everyone having a tizzy?”

“Not when you’re the Firelord, babe.”

The term of endearment was a mistake. High spots of color appeared on Zuko’s cheekbones and he moved even further away from Sokka.

“Can I have a cig?”

Zuko looked sharply at his friend. “You don’t smoke.”

Sokka shrugged. “It’s been a stressful couple of weeks.”

“It’s not a good habit to get into. You should take care of yourself,” Zuko said, even while opening the case and handing a cigarette to Sokka.

Sokka sat for a moment staring down at the stick and twirling it between his fingers. “You should take care of _yourself_.”

“Are we just going to spend this entire conversation repeating sentences at each other?”

Sokka laughed shortly, and they lapsed into silence. Zuko had no more room to scoot away, without risking a fall off the edge of the roof. He weighed his options. He stared out into the late afternoon sky. The sun was already sinking in the west, sending its rays through the clouds and lighting them on fire in a range of purples, reds, pinks. 

“You know, I’m not a firebender,” Sokka said eventually.

“Um, I know,” Zuko said.

Sokka waved the cigarette around wildly. “Little help here?”

“Oh. Right.” Zuko lit a small flame between his thumb and forefinger and held it out to his friend. Sokka held the cigarette in his mouth, cupping his hands around Zuko’s. He struggled to light it in the strong afternoon breeze.

He was so close. Sokka’s cheekbones hollowed as he sucked on the end of the cigarette, his eyelids lowered in concentration. A strand of loose hair escaped his wolf tail. Zuko wanted to pull off the ribbon entirely and see his hair down, see the way he knew it would fall over his face, how it would make him look.

Sokka took a few quick puffs, grimaced, then straightened and took a longer drag. “Zuko.”

“I know.”

“We need to talk about it.”

“I know.”

“Why did you run away?” 

It wasn’t the question Zuko thought Sokka would ask. More like, _why did you accost me in a hallway?_ Or perhaps, _what the fuck is wrong with you?_

Zuko, for the first time in the conversation, met Sokka’s eyes. “Why didn’t _you_ run away?”

“I thought I was the one that’s supposed to be repeating _your_ sentences.”

Zuko didn’t laugh. “Why didn’t you?”

Sokka shrugged. “I didn’t want to.”

“You wanted to stay.”

“I wanted to stay.” Sokka was very close to him now. His eyes were very blue.

“You wanted to stay?”

“Shut..." Sokka’s hand was on Zuko’s arm. “Shut the fuck up.”

Their second kiss was gentler than the first. 

It was everything Zuko had wanted their first kiss to be. Lips moving soft and slow. Quiet. No biting or misplaced hands.

Sokka smelled like sweat, and beneath that, soap, and something Zuko couldn’t quite put his finger on. Like lavender. But there was no possible way Sokka _could_ smell like lavender. _Would_ smell like lavender.

He could feel the rays of the setting sun on his face, see them turn the inside of his eyelids red. Sokka’s hand migrated from Zuko’s arm to his face. They had both dropped their cigarettes.

“Sokka,” Zuko whispered against his mouth. 

Sokka groaned. “No talking. Busy.”

“We have to talk about it.” Zuko pulled away, but kept his hand on where it was, on Sokka’s arm. Sokka wore a sleeveless tunic and his skin was covered in goosebumps from the cool breeze. “What about Suki?”

Sokka waved his hand ineffectually. “Is that your only objection? Suki and I broke up. Finito.”

“Oh,” Zuko said. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t.

“Don’t be. It was mutual.” Sokka pulled him into an embrace and absently rubbed his face against Zuko’s cheek. They both needed to shave.

“Still. You guys were together for a long time.”

“Not really.” Sokka was busy pressing kisses on the place where Zuko’s jaw met his ear.

“Five years is a long time.”

Sokka pulled away with a frustrated groan. “Zuko.”

“Don’t ‘Zuko’ me.” His voice was high and the words were tight as they left his mouth. “How do I know you’re not just hurt? Just trying to forget about it? About her?”

“You’re the one that kissed _me_ , Zuko.”

“Well, you were talking about my eyes—”

Sokka kissed Zuko into silence. Zuko tried again to pull away but Sokka insisted. He raised himself slightly, kneeling upright, hands pressing down on Zuko’s shoulders. 

Zuko found himself flat against the sloped roof, tiles digging roughly into his back. He couldn’t find it within himself to mind.

“Shut up. Shut up.” Sokka slipped his tongue into his mouth and Zuko did shut up, at least for a little while.

  
  



	4. Plum Wine

“And what do you do, Master Sokka?” the commander asked, passing along a plate of smoked sea slug.

Zuko snorted at ‘Master Sokka’, then concealed the sound with a cough. He reached for his glass of plum wine, carefully composing his face and avoiding Sokka’s narrowed gaze.

After a pause, Sokka smiled politely at the Fire Nation official. “I am here as a representative from the South Pole.”

“Ah,” the man said with a sniff. “I didn’t realize the Southern Water Tribe had an official representative at court.”

Zuko said, suppressing a grin, “Though his position is unofficial, Master Sokka is one of my most trusted advisors and the son of Head Chieftain Hakoda.”

Despite the amusement in Zuko’s voice, Sokka smiled at him gratefully. “Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “Hakoda is the only _official_ representative of the Southern tribe, but my father has tasked me with advising the Firelord in matters regarding peaceful cooperation between our two nations.”

“Yes, Master Sokka has been most..." Zuko felt a bare foot brush his ankle. He choked on his wine. “Most cooperative.”

* * *

It was dark in the broom closet. 

A shelf jutted uncomfortably into the small of Zuko’s back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he took note of his foot, which was placed firmly in the middle of something wet and slick. He refused point-blank to think about what the puddle could be. Or whether his robe, shrugged earlier to the ground, was lying in it.

“Sokka,” he said — the word coming out as a moan against his will and better judgment — “We should go back to dinner. They’re going to wonder where we went.”

“I haven’t seen you in three days.” In the sliver of light that came in from the gap around the door, Zuko could see Sokka’s expression. His eyes were wide and wild, cheeks flushed deeply. “ _Three days_.”

“I’m the Firelord, Sokka. I have..." He trailed off as Sokka bit hard on his exposed collarbone. “...responsibilities.”

“Well,” Sokka said, fingers working deftly on undoing the buttons that clasped Zuko’s shirt. “Add me to your to-do list.” 

His protest mainly perfunctory, Zuko made no response other than to clutch at Sokka’s head and allow him to continue.

Sokka scratched lightly at the hair on Zuko’s chest. “Didn’t know you finally grew hair here,” he murmured, slipping a nipple into his mouth.

Zuko let out a choked sound that landed somewhere between ‘haaaagh’ and ‘unng’. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Sokka said, rubbing his face against the hot skin of Zuko’s stomach. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Sokka could feel Zuko’s erection poking him in the ribs and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He had already made his choice, as soon as he had dragged Zuko into the closet on their way to the men’s room. 

He slipped to his knees and looked up at Zuko’s face in the dark. “Are you okay?”

Zuko was leaning heavily against the shelves. He cupped Sokka’s face in one hand, stroked his plum wine-stained lip with a thumb. “I’m okay if you’re okay.”

There was a glint of teeth in the dark as Sokka grinned. “I’m okay.” 

Sokka maintained eye contact as he slowly unfastened the string that held Zuko’s pants closed. In one deliberate and fluid motion, he slid both pants and briefs off at once, exposing Zuko to him. And with no preamble or hesitation, he took Zuko’s cock full into his mouth.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Zuko gasped. 

Sokka’s mouth was hot and wet and unbelievably tight as he gripped Zuko’s hips with both hands and held him immobilized against the shelf. Bringing his mouth to the tip of Zuko’s member, he flicked his tongue over the head and sucked gently. 

The high and quiet keening sound coming from Zuko’s throat was well worth everything the hard stone floor was doing to Sokka’s knees. He patiently worked his way up and down Zuko’s cock, his hands everywhere at once, Zuko’s stomach, hip bones, ass. 

“Sokka, I’m so close,” Zuko panted. “Sokka, stop, I’m going to come.”

Sokka grunted in dissent and slid his lips all the way to the base of Zuko’s cock. He pumped up and down determinedly, increasing his pace until Zuko was writhing helplessly beneath him. 

And with a final cry, Zuko came undone. His cock throbbed in Sokka’s mouth and his world shrunk to the space between them, the silken feeling of Sokka’s mouth, the pressure just where he needed it, just where it felt right and intense and blinding. Sokka gulped eagerly, swallowing everything Zuko had to give. 

Pulling away, Sokka sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Zuko’s eyes were closed, his body still limp against the shelves. Sokka smiled at the sight — head thrown back, chest heaving, shirt unbuttoned, pants around his ankles. Zuko looked disheveled and almost painfully alluring. Sokka rose to his feet and stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do now that his confidence had run out. 

Zuko opened his eyes. He threw himself into Sokka’s arms. 

Stumbling backward and laughing, Sokka returned the hug and held the half-naked Zuko close in his arms. He towered over the Firelord by six inches or so — with a jolt of pleasure, Sokka realized he could very easily place his chin atop Zuko’s head. He pressed a soft kiss to his hair.

“You..." Zuko mumbled into Sokka’s shoulder. “You are my favorite person.”

* * *

“I think you have some sweet cream on your face there, Master Sokka.” 

Sokka wiped hastily at his chin with his napkin.

“Are you alright, Firelord Zuko? That’s quite a cough.”

“I’m perfectly well, sir,” Zuko replied, taking a demure bite of his hotcake.


End file.
